Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Daring Divorcee

“I was... I was shocked.”

“Mr. Mason tells me that you lost your handbag or it was stolen.”

“It was stolen.”

“Where?”

“In Los Angeles. It was stolen from the seat of my automobile. I ran in to a drugstore just long enough to get a package of cigarettes and— Heavens, I didn’t have my back turned on the automobile for more than thirty seconds. Someone just grabbed my purse.”

“You’re certain it was done then?”

“That was the only time it could have been taken.”

“When did you miss it?”

“Not until I arrived at my house here. I wanted my key. The handbag, change purse and keys were gone. I had to ring the bell so my husband could let me in.”

“What else did you have in this bag of yours?”

“Quite a variety of things, such as a woman usually carries. Keys, identification cards, credit cards, lipstick, cigarettes—”

“I thought you said you were out of cigarettes,” Tragg interrupted harshly.

“I’m talking about what I usually carry in the bag.”

Tragg whirled abruptly to Perry Mason. “You found the bag in your office?”

“Yes.”

“Made an inventory of the contents?”

“Yes.”

“What about cigarettes?”

Mason kept his eyes steady on Tragg’s. “There was a half-filled package of cigarettes in the bag.”

Tragg’s eyes swiveled back to Adelle Hastings. “That pretty well disposes of your story about being out of cigarettes,” he said.

“It does nothing of the kind,” Mason interposed. “A thief could have put cigarettes in the bag without the slightest difficulty.”

“Then it’s your theory that the thief came here?” Tragg asked Mason.

Mason said, “It’s my theory that the thief came here. Mrs. Hastings said she wasn’t in the office.”

“When did you first talk with her?”

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.”

“You took quite an interest in this handbag, didn’t you?”

“There was a fairly good-sized sum of money in it,” Mason said.

“How much?” Tragg asked.

“Three thousand, one hundred and seventeen dollars and forty-three cents.”

“What time was it when you came here?” Tragg asked Adelle Hastings.

“I didn’t come here,” she said.

Tragg turned to Mason. “You were out for lunch?”

“Yes.”

Tragg turned back to Della Street. “What about you, Della?”

“I also was out for lunch.”

“Who was at the desk in the reception office — Gertie?”

“That’s right.”

“And what does Gertie say?” Tragg asked Mason.

“Gertie described the woman who came in, but it was only a very general description. Gertie was reading. She only gets the names of clients who come in and then notifies Della Street. Della is the one who takes their addresses and gets an outline of what they want to see me about. Since Della was out for lunch, Gertie simply asked the caller her name.”

“And what name was given?”

“That of Mrs. Hastings.”

“Let’s get Gertie in here,” Tragg said. “I’ll talk with her myself.”

“Now, just a minute,” Mason said. “Gertie hasn’t seen Adelle Hastings. Mrs. Hastings came in through my private office door. Gertie hasn’t seen her.”

“So much the better,” Tragg said. “We’ll see if she can identify Mrs. Hastings.”

“Now look,” Mason said, “that’s not fair.”

“Not fair to whom?”

“Not fair to Mrs. Hastings. She can’t identify her.”

“Why not?”

“When this woman came in the office she was wearing dark glasses. She came in at a time when Gertie was more or less preoccupied, and...”

A sudden idea struck Lt. Tragg. He turned to Adelle Hastings. “You’ve got dark glasses?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“Put them on. I want to see how you look.”

Mason nodded to Della Street.

Della Street dialed the number of Paul Drake’s office, gave the prearranged signal and hung up.

So intent was Lt. Tragg on watching Adelle Hastings open her purse, take out dark glasses and put them on that he didn’t pay any attention to Della’s call.

“Stand up,” Tragg said.

Adelle Hastings stood up.

“That’s fine,” Tragg said. “Now, that’s the way we’ll do it. We’ll have Mrs. Hastings go out in the corridor through this door. Then she’ll walk into the reception office without saying a word. Gertie will be there. No one will say a word. Now, if Gertie says, ‘You left your purse here yesterday, Mrs. Hastings,’ or something of that sort, then we’ll have an absolute identification.”

“The hell we will,” Mason said. “That’s no way to make an identification.”

“Why not?”

“Gertie knows nothing about there being any question of identification. She would identify anyone who came in the office with dark glasses on. You would yourself. She’ll look up, see the dark glasses, and since those will be the most prominent thing that will catch her eye she’ll jump to a conclusion and—”

Tragg said, “Do you want to adopt the position that you’re going to refuse to allow your client to make a test of this sort?”

“No,” Mason said reluctantly, “I don’t want to refuse but I don’t think it’s fair.”

“Well,” Tragg said, “we’re going to do it that way whether you think it’s fair or not. Come on, Mrs. Hastings, you’re going to go with me.”

Mason sighed. “All right, Mrs. Hastings,” he said, “I guess Lieutenant Tragg has the whip hand here. Go with him.”

Tragg opened the door to the corridor from the outer office, bowed to Mrs. Hastings and said, with his shrewd smile, “You first, my dear.”

Adelle Hastings stepped out into the corridor.

Tragg motioned Mason to come along with them.

“I want you to come along, Perry. I don’t want you to say anything. Just hang back where you won’t be in the way, but I want to be sure you aren’t giving anyone any signals. And you, too, Della. I’m going to ask you to come along.”

It was only after Mason and Della had followed Tragg’s instructions that Tragg noticed the crowd of women in front of the door of Mason’s reception room.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Tragg asked. “You having a delegation call on you or something?”

“We’ll go take a look,” Mason said.

“First,” Tragg said, “we’ll just let Mrs. Hastings—”

He broke off as the young women turned at the sound of his voice and Tragg saw they were all wearing dark glasses.

“What the hell!” Tragg said.

Della Street gave a signal and one of the young women opened the door of the reception office and started in.

Tragg hurried down to the group, forgetful at the moment of Mrs. Hastings.

“Here, here,” he said, “I want to find out who you folks are and what you’re doing here.”

Mason said to Adelle Hastings in a low voice, “Hurry along and mingle with the group.”

Tragg reached the entrance door just in time to hear Gertie’s voice saying, “Oh, hello! What happened to you yesterday? You left your purse and...”

Gertie’s voice trailed away into amazed silence as she saw that the woman she was addressing was followed by another woman wearing dark glasses, then another and another.

Mason pushed Adelle Hastings along into the group and she entered with another woman.

Tragg forced his way into the office. “Now, just a minute,” he said, “just a minute. Gertie, have you seen one of these women before?”

“I— Why, I thought... I don’t know.”

“Now, let’s be careful about this,” Tragg said. “One of these women came in here yesterday. Which one was it?”